"These trees are damn disturbing," Tarl observed, drawing forth the Warhammer of Tyr. The ancient relic emitted a blaze of holy radiance. "My old comrade, Ren o' the Blade, could have told us just what these trees are and what all that slimy fungus is on their branches. I know I've never smelled its like before. The stench is almost like the rotting smell of undead creatures.
"Is it possible that whoever transported us here practiced first on trees, and this is what happens when a forest exists underground too long?" Thorvid asked.
Tarl shuddered at the thought. "Pomanz, your father was a forester, wasn't he? Have you ever seen anything like this?"
"I never have, and I don't mind saying that I'll be glad when we're clear of them." Pomanz sheathed his saber in exchange for his battle-axe. The three knights had battled together too many years to ignore each other's hunches. If these trees were capable of attack, axes would slay them faster than swords. "And there's something unnatural here. There's no wind, yet the branches seem to wave in a breeze."
"I don't remember hearing about a forest in any of the scouting reports," Alaric observed, swinging his axe in wide arcs to stretch his muscles.
Suddenly, the radiance of Tyr's hammer glowed brighter and shone on a clearing ahead of the foursome. Bathed in the hammer's glow, a Red Wizard of Thay stood before them. Gold-trimmed red robes flowed about the sorcerer, making him appear to hover over the ground. Black hair spilled down his back, matching a closely-trimmed beard. Steely eyes glared out from under bushy eyebrows. The wizard was an imposing sight, yet Tarl and his men were unimpressed.
"Welcome to my lands, noble knights," Marcus sneered. "Judging from your flags of surrender, can I assume you intend to turn Phlan over to me?"
The four warriors spread out in a line in front of the wizard. The horses stamped nervously, tearing up the earth and uncovering tough tree roots just under the surface.
"Whom do I have the honor of addressing?" Tarl asked in his most polite tone.
"Why, foolish priest, I am Marcus, Red Wizard of Thay and your host. I am the man who singlehandedly transported Phlan to its current resting place. Now that the pleasantries are over, I ask again-have you come to surrender Phlan to me?"
The three knights left the negotiating to Tarl. Thorvid watched the trail behind them; Alaric watched the trees to the left; Pomanz guarded their right.
"You are very brave, Lord Marcus, to meet our truce parley without guards. We have come at the request of Phlan's Council of Ten to talk terms of peace." Tarl was barely able to contain his anger at the effrontery of the mage he faced, but much more than his pride was at stake. He was committed to play peacemaker.
The wizard answered haughtily. "I need no guards to protect me from your sort. As for terms of peace-there are none. I want your city. That's why I transported all of Phlan's buildings here. But all of the citizens may go, taking any goods they can carry. Take my message back to your Council of Ten." Marcus turned to leave.
"Ignoring the fact that no one has the right to steal a city, where exactly are we?" Tarl asked.
The wizard turned to the riders, irritated. From the glare in his eyes, he clearly found them unworthy of his audience. "You are in a great cavern beneath my red tower. You are still in Faerun-at least physically. You may take my generous offer to leave safely or you may die. Now be gone."
Thorvid raised his battle-axe. "Why, you arrogant son of-" Tarl seized the knight's arm, even as he struggled to contain his own anger. Taking a deep breath, Tarl addressed the wizard.
"Before I take your offer back to my people for discussion, I would like to see how we'll get out of this cavern. And I need your guarantee of safety for the people of Phlan."
"Why, of course. Your wish is reasonable. You won't be able to take your horses up my stairs, but do come along." The wizard floated on puffs of red flame down a wide trail between the trees.
Tightening their grips on their weapons, the four warriors fought to control their skittish mounts as they rode behind the wizard.
After perhaps fifty yards, the forest opened up at the side of the cavern. A section of the cave wall melted away in a red mist, revealing a wide staircase spiraling upward.
"Only you, priest, need to see the exit out of my tower. Send the rest of your rabble back to the city."
"Where our lord goes, we follow," Pomanz declared, keeping a wary eye for signs of any trap.
To keep the peace, Tarl was about to agree with the Red Wizard's request, but the wizard suddenly flew into a rage. He fairly bellowed at the four men.
"Knight, know that I am Marcus, a mage of extraordinary power. You are nothing compared to my might. You will do as I say or I will destroy you." The wizard produced a sparking, popping ball of crimson energy in his right hand. His red robes writhed about him.
"There will be no combat. We are under flags of parley. Surely, even the Red Wizards of Thay recognize such conventions of war."
"Oh, we recognize them all right. This is our answer to such knightly foolishness." A wave of his left hand caused the two white flags to ignite and crumble to ash.
"Wizard, you go too far!" Tarl shouted, raising his glowing hammer.
Another wave of the mage's hand caused the ground to rumble underfoot. "No! I have not gone nearly far enough! You can all meet my pool of darkness or face my thorny horrors in the forest. There is no surrender and no escape. My pit fiend was stupid to think I could get anything from you this way. Good-bye."
The wizard blinked out in a blast of red flame.
"Something's happening behind us!" Thorvid shouted.
The forest was writhing and shifting. Every tree was becoming a horribly twisted parody of a human. Tree limbs turned into giant arms; roots heaved from the ground, growing into huge legs; trunks twisted with loud groans into massive, pulsing chests and heads.
Tarl hurriedly searched for an escape. They could go up the stairs into the darkness and whatever trap Marcus had prepared, or they could meet the tree monsters head on.
"Tarl!" Pomanz pointed to the right.
The mystical light in the cavern showed a narrow path through the forest. The companions spurred their mounts into the narrow gap between the trees and the edge of the cavern.
A mile-wide swath of groaning, twisting trees slowly encroached on the path at the cavern wall, squeezing it tighter and tighter. The warriors threw aside lances and equipment to lighten the loads on the galloping horses, but each man could see they weren't moving fast enough to escape. Tarl led the charge toward the perimeter. "This would be a good time, Shal!" he screamed.
Back in the red tower, Marcus and the pit fiend watched the wild ride from a crystal scrying sphere.
"If she's coming to save them, your trees won't be able to stop the cleric and his friends. Latenat!"
"I know, but maybe the minions of Moander can kill one or two of them. Look-his hammer isn't even bruising the bark. Moander certainly has a talent for perverting things of nature." The wizard rubbed his hands with glee.
"Couldn't you have tried harder to trick them into moving up the stairs? Latenat!" The fiend was disgusted with the failure of the parley.
"No, this is much better. Tomorrow, or perhaps in a few days, after I have rested, I will lead those tree minions in a final attack on the city. We will pull down the walls once and forever. But we'll be careful, of course, to capture the defenders and not kill too many of them. Then Phlan and all its souls will be ours."
Marcus paced the chamber in delight, anticipating the glorious future. Tanetal rubbed his greasy forehead, wondering what Bane would do with them when all the plans failed. The fiend stared into the scrying crystal.